


Impromptu

by Maxeria_Shade



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxeria_Shade/pseuds/Maxeria_Shade
Summary: Prompts from my previous (and future) Language Arts classes. all are short and sweet.- first two chapters are related in one way (from a journals exercise)- other two are from two novels my class had to read, with their given prompts(old works from 2018/2019)





	1. Morning Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made on 10/9-18

It was a typical morning. Sun was up, but I was awake prior the sun rose. Early morning routine, you could say. Got used to it after the first 3 years of training. The feathers on my wings shook slightly with the wind as it beat on the clouds like whisking eggs. The ruins of New City deemed itself barren, I landed. New City ruins looks more duller than it once was. It was one of the most prosperous cities underneath the U.A.J.P! The overthrow of said alliance was brutal and lasted for mostly a year. The skyscrapers’ windows were broken and chapped, the buildings were a duller shade of grey and red and tan. I roamed a bit on foot to see what has happened overnight. I aimlessly wandered to the Ministry of Defense. The whitewash color of the building dulled to a light grey, the windows tainted and broken. “Just as I remember it,” a voice said next to me, monotone and dull. “I just wished the U.A.J.P. stayed a bit more longer of a better government system,” a sigh followed. I recognized the voice as the Commander, well-known for his strategic mind and choice. I shrugged and followed the Commander inside the Ministry of Defense ruins.

  
The Commander led me to his office. Or what’s left of it. The many computers in the room was either full of static, giving off a noisy feel or flat out broken. The screens were cracked, chipped, and had a semi-thick layer of dust. The Commander took a seat in the chair in the middle of the room and offered me a seat. I accepted the offer, sitting down with my wings folded back. “Mind telling me why you refused to fall?” The Commander questioned.  
“I would never fall without a fight and reason. The U.A.J.P. was weak when it started!” I replied.

  
“That is not true.”“Is so.” The Commander looked at me deeply with those sea green eyes. The Commander, although with a formal outfit, was slightly slouching, with his legs crossed at the knees. The tailcoat he wore hung on him loosely, the “tail” draping and lightly brushing the floor. The collar had a thin, red trim, and it was folded back, neatly. The button-up vest was a bit short, but still covered most of his torso. Dark dress pants reached to slightly below his knees before disappearing into the knee high boots he wore. Elegant and formal, but an insomniac, I thought. There were dark circles, not pronounced, around his eyes. The gaze he held was serious, but there was a hint of sleepiness to it. “How long did you even sleep?” I asked, slight curiosity in my voice. A yawn followed by, “Around three hours. Why you ask?” He got up and walked over to one of the functioning monitors. The keyboard clicked with each key pressed and brought up a file. He motioned me forward with his head. “Look here.” I looked at the file, it was a document of what happened when the so called Dream Destroyer escaped. I gulped.

  
This was the type of stuff I stay away from. “W-Why are you showing me this? I thought this was destroyed when the U.A.J.P. fell.” I looked at the Commander. The expression he held was indifferent, as if he didn’t care what I thought. “Because it was underneath a heavy lock and key. I’d assume it was you since the symbol on the top right,” a pause to point, “gave it away. Guess I was right.” A faint smirk. The way his eyes glistened with satisfaction, envying me. I kicked the floor and turned on my heel, walking away. When I was outside, I flew off back to the base. So much for a damn morning.


	2. Dread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made on 9/10-18

The scaffoldings... my dreaded nightmare. Why did we have these here of all the places? “Commander, why did these scaffoldings here in the Ministry of Defense, and in the most unconventional way possible?” Cryto was right, these damn scaffoldings are in the worst way possible. All warped and stiff, just by tapping it lightly with the tip of my boots made it creak unsettingly. The gloomy lighting made the room forebodingly terrifying. It made me want to turn back and scratch this off the list. Cryto did insist that I came along, and literally dragged me here. With a sigh, I carefully settled my weight onto the scaffolding, my back towards the wall, my body shaking with anxiety. Cryto came next, their wings folded neatly behind them, making a feathery like cloak. There was a third with us, a blue haired boy, around 15, who accompanied us. Dep was his name, and carried a pocket knife with him. Odd for someone younger than me, but I’ll accept it, I thought. Dep kept muttering small pleas to himself, hoping he didnt continue. I was gently moving my way across when I felt a poke at my side. “Stop touching my waist... it tickles!” The statement faltered at the end, color rising to my face in embarrassment. “Ain’t my fault the scaffoldings made for single file, back on the wall style,” Cryto retorted. I rolled my eyes. How long were these anyways? Given we were going at a turtle’s pace, I’d expect us to be halfway. A brief look down made me look up and suck a breath in. My chest ached, my body was shaking, more than it was before.

We all contiue to cross the scaffoldings, when all of a sudden Dep tripped and held on to the scaffolding. Cryto looked straight into his eyes and noticed that there was a slight gleam: a plea for release. “I’ve been holding you guys back... I’m sorry...” With that statement he let go and fell straight down to the abyss, to the darkness of the bottom. Neither Cryto nor I made a move. The scaffolding started to crack underneath me. I was in a panic, but couldn’t do anything since my body froze in shock. What Cryto did was a blur: flew a few feet in front of the scaffoldings, U-turned back to me, and hoisted me up by my arms. They landed at the other side, dropping me, and made me flop on the ground. “Do me a solid, and lose some weight,” Cryto panted. “Whatever, don listen to me. At least we made it to the other side.” True we did make it. I lay sprawled on the metallic floor. Never again.

I let go of the scaffolding and fell. I’d hope to reach my death, but a shadow caught me. “Im not letting you die today-” A heavy cough escaped my savior. Coughs, gasps and wheezes. They were draped in a jet black cloak, a shadow covering their face. The voice sounded familiar... where have I heard it? My mind was woozy and fuzzy, I reached my hand out before a blakout.


	3. Three Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'A Christmas Carol' writing prompt. had to write something relating to three spirits of the past, present, and future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made on 6/12-18

Sound asleep as I was. I heard a light _tip, tip, tip-tip_ of footsteps approaching my room. I shuffled around in my bed, then I felt a tap on my shoulder. It felt feathery and soft. I turned over and saw a strange apparition. It had a crown on its head, all feathers. The cape it wore was an eggshell color, matching its gown, tied with a cord of an azure blue. The eyes are what tantalized me the most. A bright, glittering silver, like specks of diamonds on the ground, giving off a prismatic rainbow. Its form flickered, as if its light was dimming or cutting off. “I am the King of the Past, a lowly spirit who will show you what you cast.” It’s voice was soft and light, reminding me of a kind-hearted individual. It extended its hand, and I took it. By what ever divine intervention, we flew through time itself. The scene before us was my childhood. Embers so sweet and pure, it was warming to see them, alive and well. I saw my child self - small, adorable, and what I kept dear to me. I briefly looked away and teared up. How has this small time faded?

“You think you lost this place in time, but its still here with all the divine,” the King of the Past said. I fell to my knees and just sobbed. The Spirit kneeled and comforted me. The flickering form provided some warmth, and softening comfort. I lulled myself to sleep as I continue to cry. “The next one is sure to come, but be wary, for he is a dark one.” Those were the King’s last words before we went back to present time.

I got up with a start. I took a quick glance at the alarm clock. It read “02:57.” Was that a dream, or did I really live it? I wondered. “Awake? Finally, let’s get this over with,” a voice said. I yelped in surprise. “Who, when, where and what?” I said in rapid succession. The voice, wherever it was, chuckled. “The Commander of the Present,” a bow, “is I.” His voice was a mix of an accent with a lisp. Where have I heard that voice? The faint light of the nightlight shone on his features. A long black tailcoat, the tips brushing on the floor, a bold red line on the collar, which was folded neatly. A waistcoat of black, tucked neatly in the dress pants he wore. The knee length boots complimented his “general” like look. His hair was fairly long, shoulder length to be exact, for a male. The sea green eyes stood out the most, as it seem to pierce my very soul. A snap of his fingers and we were transported to the “present” time. “You see, most of the actions you took did affect you, as such.” He pointed to a scene, which was my family huddled together, talking. They were discussing my so-called “disappearance.” My mother, most of all, was pacing back and forth frantically, her face had tear lines. She mustve been weeping a lot. My grandparents where there to comfort her, patting her back, reassuring her, and hugging her. My aunts, uncles and cousins were there, trying to help, but couldn’t. “The stress of home took a slight toll on you, so you fled,” the Commander said, looking at me. “Your mother most of all, is very stressed out.” A closer look, and the Commander was right: my mom was stressed, with more silver in her hair. I looked away once again, “Why this, out of all of them.”

“To show if your mother was correct.” A snap and I flopped on my bed, face first.

“Please not another one,” I said, rubbing my head. It was a near miss of the headboard. Any closer, and my head would’ve had a bruise that I did not want to explain. My room was suddenly colder than usual. I got a horrible chill down my spine and the rest of my body. I blinked, and then I was at some sort of funeral, but the scene was twisted. The faces of the crowd was distorted in all directions, some having gore. One look back and I saw the figure. Cloaked as a shadow, two sword scabbards on either side of their hips, and the tip of a mask peaked out underneath the hood. It tilted its head to the side, and spoke a language that was foriegn and fictional. It unsheathed the swords. It tilted its head back up. I stood there, frozen and paralyzed with fear. I kept continously blinking, and the figure seemed to have wings. The wings were broken, twisted, and shaky, vibrating almost. The one thing I understood was “gaya gaya, puto maya,” which was “copycat.” I’m a copycat of what? Of the future? The tone it said the phrase in was mocking almost. I made no move to approach it, so it approached me. Slow and sly, like a fox. It wrote something on the ground. “The... Fox of the Future?” I asked, terrified. A slight nod told me yes and that was it. I became dizzy and passed out. Laughing echoed in my brain, and it left my body rattling.

I woke in cold sweat after these events. I never would have thought everything would lead to this. How fun, isn’t it right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some bits are parallel to what i'm facing in my personal life.


	4. Turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'To Kill a Mockingbird' writing prompt. each person was to choose a photo of a shoe and write something based off that photo. i got a dress shoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made on 30/3-19

Routine was normal. Getting up at 06:00, showering, morning hygiene, putting on the classical suit. The case was ending too soon, too fast. There were a few questions left unanswered, too close of a piece to fit. There was something off. As I looked in the mirror, turning my head to a side and then the other. Seeing no blemishes, I squirted some gel and finely tamed the puff of fluff I call my hair. Dark circles felt engraved on my eyelids, a consequence of staying too late drinking coffee. This case was harder than I initially thought. It is too late to back out, as the prosecution will win if I chicken out. My client is a dear friend of mine, downside I cannot be biased. The conflicting thoughts keep gnawing and nibbling at my fragile mind. It makes the world spin around and around. It suddenly ceased as I slammed my fist on the dresser’s top. That is going to be a migraine later. Casually, I sat and put on the same old dressing shoes that completed the lawyer I am. A lick to fix a stray strand and I left, locking the door. Drove to the nearest café, got a medium cup of joe, and something edible and went to the courthouse. I checked the time. An hour early. Good, I thought. I had my humble breakfast while reviewing the evidence. The case will end today if I didn’t bring a new theory at the table.

A cliché murder case this was. Someone got framed for it all, the culprit is all shaking and horrified, stuttering and mumbling to himself, the victim, stabbed and shot. One of the murder weapons disappeared, and has been lost. Few people say that the victim was insane, the culprit even agreed to that thought, surprisingly. While I, sticking by the more morale and logical conclusion, did not even think that the victim was insane or mad. Several times I brought up the assumption of a secret cult that was behind all of this. The moment I said it, the moment I regret it. Everyone stared me down, expecting an explanation, or something to explain the method behind the madness of the assumption. The culprit stared at me as if in trance. I haven’t the faintest idea of the mumbling, but one phrase I kept hearing which haunts me: “Have you seen the Yellow Sign?” The mumbled phrase nearly drove me to say it was the owner of the Sign that this case in fault was for. I had a gut feeling that this case will end with one more murder of somebody and someone. Someone who knew of the Sign; someone who has it with them; someone who-

My thoughts cut short when someone snapped at me. “Hey, sir. Trial’s about to start.” Shoot. I gathered the scattered notes, but one of them slipped out. It was a sketch of the Yellow Sign. It is a strange symbol: It appears to be a tilted question mark with another curved line at the bottom left turning counter clockwise with another question mark-esque symbol facing clockwise. I quickly got the sketch and rushed in to the room. I smoothed out my suit and cleaned any wrinkles. Guess my breakfast is already trash. My mind was rushing a mile a minute, my heart twice as fast. I keep forgetting that I made a promise to a close dear friend, and every time I look at my gloved hand, I get reminded of it. To curse my luck, it was of the same Sign put on question. I am not a devout a follower, but I have something to believe in. Some sort of faith. I said a quiet prayer to the King in Yellow, to provide some sort of cloak to shield me of suspicion.

Truth be told, the murder was all framed. I was the one who framed the innocent culprit. I believe they too knew they were innocent. Bribery is forbidden, but when done correctly, and greatly, it can do wonders. The victim was someone who I had a vendetta on. They were just waste to me. A great waste. I stole their reputation and kept it safe. Safe, safe and safe. I knew where it was, their stolen reputation, their stolen purpose, their stolen life... it was within my own suit’s breast pocket.

The trial went smoothly, the theory I had deemed reasonable, believable, and the culprit was a free man. I packed my notes nicely, and left the courthouse immediately. I arrived home, and to my surprise, there was a note, with the Sign, a simplified version, was on the coffee table. I picked it up and I started to read. “Dear X, I thank you for the trial today, it was exhilarating to watch. The hand covered in leather, it held the Sign, I know it. The way you spoke felt powerful. You did great. Take this coin as a token. Signed, Zypher.” The coin was of the Sign. I chuckled and placed the coin in a drawer for the “Stolen.” It felt great being alive in this era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of the works i am most proud of. still am to this day


End file.
